One of my only college friends I still talk to, known man about town, and the only heterosexual man I know with a framed autographed picture of Rosie O’Donnell in his domicile, Matt “Big Red” O’Malley has accepted my Official Blogging Duel Challenge.
I decided we’re both totally slackers about updating the blogs, and figured a little challenge was in order to kick things into high gear.
The Terms:
We must update our blogs daily, with the only free day being Fourth of July, when we will both likely be far too into the bag celebrating America with friends and loved ones.
Whomever posts first on a given day gets to pick the topic. So if Matt is done in one day by his sissy-boy bedtime and I post my theories about the dissolution of the Brenda/Dylan relationship on the original “90210″ at midnight, he must then post that day about “Beloved 90s TV couples,” or more generally, “TV”. The same holds true if I am done in by my sloth-like tendency to saw logs in bed until the last possible moment and he posts at 7am or some other ungodly hour.
One post a week may consist just of transcribing a chat session between the two of us, but only if we both agree to post the same chat, and only if it doesn’t make us look like idiots. (This may never happen.)
I’m pretty (expletive) old, you guys. I was at a 30th birthday party on Friday night, which while fun only reminded me of my own End of Days looming on the horizon. Sigh. The party did have a pretty kickass 90s soundtack to celebrate the decade during which we all came of age. About 100 amazingly nostalgic-orama worthy tunes played throughout the night, but the following five stuck in my head especially for some reason.
5) How Bizarre (Horrible song in that earworm way, insanely reminiscent of a 1997 road trip to Newport, Rhode Island for spring break, senior year of high school–Jenny used a fake ID to get a tattoo, we played a drinking game to “Brass Monkey,” and we took a picture of a Shetland pony’s private parts. Oh, high school.)
4) The Freshman (Is this the best song about abortion? I’d throw a vote in for “Brick,” and possibly “Red Ragtop,” although I feel submitting a Tim McGraw song to such a list would make me die a little inside…as would even compiling such a list in the first place, eegads woman let’s move on.) (Speaking of “Red Ragtop,” though…THIS is fairly epic.)
3) How’s It Going to Be (Oh, Third Eye Blind…how you spoke to my heartbroken 18 year old self. Sigh…)
2) When I Kiss Your Mouth (I absolutely MUST find a karaoke bar with this tune sometime soon. Also, the only video of it I could find was a compilation of Jason and Carly from “General Hospital” in the mid-90s, when my obsession with that show was at a fever pitch–appropriate!)
1) Whatta Man (Not only do I literally know every single delightfully pervy word to this song, but because the official video has embedding disabled, I get to post this photo montage of Jacoby Ellsbury. I think that works out best for everyone, especially when you consider that he dresses like a dapper don but even in jeans he’s a godsend, original the man of my dreams.)
Honorable Mention: Runaway Train. They didn’t have Amber Alerts back in 1992. They had Soul Asylum. And thank God, right?
Stay tuned for Part 2 of my 90s tribute. Let’s just say you should be “so excited.”
Washington? Built on a swamp. Me? Violently ill if I spend too much time in humidity at all, let along while exerting myself. My plan to train for a freaking marathon during a Washington summer? Possibly, probably, ill-advised. And yet, here I am.
I ran four miles tonight at my usual awesomely slow pace and the trail had like three incredibly minor incredibly short uphill sections (six total, I suppose 2 miles out and 2 back). The inclines are short and not steep. Not exactly Heartbreak Hill I’m talking about. And yet, I was wimpy and pwned and used them as an excuse to walk for a minute. It was kind of a sad display.
But it was raining! (Actually that should have made it easier. It was also 68 to 70 degrees max, and breezy. Good lord woman.)
But my ipod was making my pants fall down again! (Actually no it wasn’t, you bought one of those arm band thingies at Best Buy literally right before your run, because you were tired of the constant fear of exposing half of Alexandria to your big white butt.)
But my fingers were the size of Johnsonville Brats! (Actually…this is true. And now I’m hungry.)
*Not my actual fingers, but a solid representation.
No one hates “The Hills” more than me. I could cheerfully toss Spencer Pratt into a vat of honey and then roll him around in some fire ants.
And yet? I’d rather watch an all day marathon (heh) of that crapfest than ever run uphill. I must find a way around this in the coming months, methinks.
Couldn't find a pic of the Runners' Start; but it was just as crowded. Whoo!
Well, for my first race on my Marine Corps Marathon training schedule, I sure did pick a doozy.
45,000 people participated in the Race for the Cure in D.C. this morning. 45,000! It was absolutely great, and definitely made me excited to do more races.
Before I get into the nuts and bolts of the race report, some highlights:
Best Boob-themed T-shirt: There were many, including an entire team of girls running as “Team DD,” but the best one I saw was one that simply read “Tough Titties.” What can I say? I am 8 years old, it made me LOL. The runner-up in this category would have to be the lady wearing a pink cape, with a hot pink bra strapped to her head, and a t-shirt that read “Titty Committee.” Bwah!
Most Disgusting Moment, Part 1: Having minor pre-race tummy issues, no doubt related to nerves, that resulted in the unfortunate forced use of a portojohn. (It’s 2009, is there really NO way to make portojohns less revolting? Whoever does this will be a millionaire overnight.)
Most Disgusting Moment, Part 2: Seeing a man emerge from a portojohn with a donut shoved in his mouth. Ew, dude.
(Al)most Disgusting Moment, Part 3: While waiting (forever) for the race to start, the girl in front of me was bent over stretching and displaying a brown stain on the back of her shorts. I was flummoxed and immediately all “ew, poo!” But then she pulled her ankle to her butt to stretch her quads and I realized it was probably (hopefully) just dirt from her shoes. Good thing, didn’t want to start the race behind a poo-pants.
Disturbing Trend: The number of people with race bibs on that I saw walking around and smoking after the race. I am not a holier-than-thou ex-smoker here; no one’s perfect. But even if I were still smoking…you’re…at a cancer fundraiser. Honestly.
Most Surreal “This Is What My Life Is Now? Wow” Moment: Standing in my bedroom at 545 in the fricking morning on a Saturday (even my cats were like, “Yeah, no. We’re not getting up.”) and lubing up my cleavage with Body Glide. (Hey, it was a breast cancer run, I can talk about cleavage!)
Most Demoralizing Moment: Which is worse, getting passed by the elderly, or by little kids? I feel like I should be able to do 3 miles faster than a 6 year old. They’re energetic, sure, but are 6 year olds really built for endurance? Sigh.
Race Report
Overall Summary: Not terrible, but certainly not good. But it was a LOT of fun, and for the first time since I started training, I even got the endorphin rush “runner’s high” thing I keep hearing about after I was done. Sweet!
Pre-Race: I got up at 5:40. Those of you who know me know that this was probably the biggest feat of the morning. Screw the short little race, I hauled myself out of bed before 6 in the morning. On a Saturday. I don’t do this.
Me So Smahhht: I had to do two extra miles, since there were 5 scheduled on my marathon plan. So? I parked a mile away from the race. Ha! Brilliant. Had to anyway, there was NO parking down there–it worked out great and allowed me to continue my snobby assed “no Metro, no how” stance while living in DC.
Warm-up FAIL: They bring a lady out to lead us in a fun series of group stretches and everyone gets all pumped and “Whoo, let’s DO this!”……and then they make us stand there for 30 minutes or so of pre-race chit chat with all the organizers and a Princess from Serbia and crazy Joe Biden. Warm up! Now stand there! Now run!
Holy Shit, This is a Lot of People: It took ten minutes to get to the starting line, just about, and pretty much the whole first half mile I was literally on top of everyone else, it was insane and very slow-going. I got tangled up with baby strollers, pissed at all the people who started with the runners but walked from the get-go (they had a separate start 15 min later for walkers, wtf people), I was dodging in and out looking for clear routes, people watching all over the damn place…it was just a zoo. A very, very, fun zoo!
Speaking of Walkers: I ran for the first mile and a quarter or so, which would turn out to be a mistake as the humidity started getting to me. In the second half I stopped for walk breaks more than I wanted to; I’m sort of realizing that I need to get a Garmin or a watch, or something that I can use to actually schedule breaks, rather than just taking them whenever. If I could look at my wrist and know “okay only 4 minutes and then you can walk for a minute,” I’d probably be able to hold out a lot longer.
Oh, For the Love Of..: About a mile in, my iPod shut down. I spent half an hour last night picking out the perfect race playlist of songs adding up to the time I was hoping to achieve (40 minutes) and all consisting of peppy, get your motor running type songs. This is not to say I can’t make it 2 miles without music, but I’m convinced my time would have been better with it–I didn’t even get to hear my super motivation song! (”Tessie” by the Dropkick Murphys; I figure if the Sox can come back from 3-0 in the 2004 ALCS against the evil Yankees, then I can certain haul my butt across 3 flat miles.) (2!3!4!)
H2Ooooh! : I really need to get a fanny pack thingie for water. I drank a liter of water between 545 and the start of the race, but was obviously not hydrated enough. There were two water stops, and both times afterwards I experienced a huge rush of energy from just one gulp of water. Next time I’m bringing my own to take a hit whenever I want.
Final Finish: I started fairly strong, but the second half of the race was crappy. Stopped to walk too much, and at times not by choice. I was actually forced to stop for a moment at times and walk around people, because by that point the actual runners were done and I was trapped with the other slow joggers, the Stroller Demolition Derby, other RFs (Runnin’ Fatties, whoo!), the elderly, the 6 year olds…and a billion walkers. Who liked to walk 6 across the road like idiots. Rrrr. I’m not sure what my time was, they won’t be posted for a day or so, I am guessing that it took 8-10 minutes to hit the starting line. So the “official” time on the box when I crossed was 52 minutes, which means it took me 42-45, which seems about right. Not 40 minutes like I wanted, but in line with how I’ve been doing on training runs, so I’ll take it.
Next Race: A 5k for Autism on the 4th of July. I must be nuts, because the 3rd of July is one of the best nights to go out and drink adult beverages at someone’s barbeque. Speaking of…I seriously need to cut back on those. It’s ridiculous. While I am not drinking excessively on any given night, I’m still drinking like every other night of the week. Including last night. Because I’m an idiot. Sure it was only two beers…but you know what would have been better? NO BEERS!
Oh and I drank 2 beers at brunch after the race too. But Brooke says that is not only ok, but encouraged. And as my official Marine Corps Marathon coach, I’m just gonna have to take her word for it.
Raise your hand if you had the Rhythm Ribbons set and totally thought you were the COOLEST GIRL IN AMERICA twirling around with it. Just me, then? I think the best part about Get In Shape, Girl! is that it contributed nothing to actual fitness, if the roly-poly state of my 10 year old (and, um, 29 year old) self is any indication. But damn did I feel cool with that ribbon!
I think leotards need to make a comeback. Not that I’d ever wear one, but I wonder if the “Saved by the Bell” girls look back at that spectacular music video they made for “Hot Sundae” as a part of the Best Saved By the Bell Episode Of All Time and think to themselves, “Thongs for working out? Really?” Oh, 80s fashion, how I love you.
Kelly wears a thong to jump rope, don't you?
Speaking of fitness, tomorrow I’ll be running in the Susan G. Komen foundation Race for the Cure 5k here in Washington, D.C. I’m actually excited for this, if a bit nervous (it has been a long time since I participated in any sort of race that didn’t involve chugging).
The only downside to my participation, aside from the visual horrors I’ll be inflicting on the thousands of other particpants as I shuffle along in my supah-tight racing outfit (I even bought a pink technical for the occasion, which really highlights the more “porcine” elements of my physique, just spectacular), is the fact that I’m due to run five miles tomorrow on the old training schedule, and a 5k consists of only three. Which means that aside from busting booty in the race, I’ll be tacking on an additional two miles! Bah!
I’m not posting a training update this week, because as noted in my previous post, this week was pure crap and it’s just kind of depressing. But I will have a race report (my first one as a sort-of running blogger, aw!) after the 5k, and hopefully start to sprinkle in a few non-running posts for those of you tiring of my incessant rambles on the subject.
My dedication to the marathon training plan has been nothing short of miraculous. Until now.
For five weeks, I missed only one day. Until this week. Where I’ve missed 2 days straight. Sigh.
(That annoying sound you hear is my sister nagging and screeching about how 2 days can set you back, and about how crap I’ve been at the nutrition side of this process, and about how if I don’t get back on track, and I mean tomorrow, she’s going to fly up here and drag me on a run by my hair.)
(Just heading her off at the pass.)
Frankly, I’m exhausted, and a bit worried about injury. I did great last week, posted my best time yet for 3 miles on Saturday, and then noticed my bum knee creaking like an antique rocker for the duration of Sunday (a merciful rest day). Then throbbing and crying out in distress on Monday, particularly when going up and down stairs. So I decided to skip the run, and ice the knee. Then I decided the same thing tonight. Sigh.
The knee has always been a PITA. I busted it approximately 5 different times growing up, 3 times skiing, 1 time playing softball on a frozen lake, and 1 time dancing on a table in college) (oh, Cuervo). It pops pretty easily, but it’s been a few good years since it’s been bad. And frankly, I’d like to keep it that way. Anyone with advice on how to continue training without totally screwing myself up, please speak up. In the meantime, I’ll be getting back to work. Because in the words of President Josiah Bartlet: Break’s over.
